- NATE -
Got my own monster
Nobody but me
Nobody but me
The claws that dig into his hips, that Nate knew would dig into him still manage to pull a ragged groan from him, his legs shaking with the effort of not rolling up into the pressure, of keeping still. His body arches, trying to follow the bite as Sunjata pulls his head back, as the stormy gaze searches for a moment, then settles, something that's almost a smirk spreading over Nate's face as it does. His own blue eyes follow the forked tongue, dip lower, for a moment, to watch his heaving chest. His focus is pulled back quickly, a bump against his forehead, the memory of horns striking him for a breath.
Nate stares into the steely eyes, so close to his face, and feels his almost smirk shift into a real smile, fond and warm and shaking as his demand is met. It's a moment with the potential to grow too serious, to grow overwhelmed with feelings, at least on Nate's end. His free hand moves up, keeping Sunjata's head close, holding him so he can't move away. "Fuckin' right you are." The words come out like they might choke him, more emotion in them than he would normally let out in a whole conversation, his fingers twisting to try and grab hold of the short crop of the attuned's hair. He doesn't move again though, not right away, giving the other man a chance to catch his breath, taking the chance to look him over, eyes hungry, and swimming with adoration.
When he finally does move again, it's slower, more controlled. A deliberate tug at the string of tension in Sunjata. Nate's not holding the reins tightly, ready to let go, to give up whatever control the other man tries to take back.
Nate stares into the steely eyes, so close to his face, and feels his almost smirk shift into a real smile, fond and warm and shaking as his demand is met. It's a moment with the potential to grow too serious, to grow overwhelmed with feelings, at least on Nate's end. His free hand moves up, keeping Sunjata's head close, holding him so he can't move away. "Fuckin' right you are." The words come out like they might choke him, more emotion in them than he would normally let out in a whole conversation, his fingers twisting to try and grab hold of the short crop of the attuned's hair. He doesn't move again though, not right away, giving the other man a chance to catch his breath, taking the chance to look him over, eyes hungry, and swimming with adoration.
When he finally does move again, it's slower, more controlled. A deliberate tug at the string of tension in Sunjata. Nate's not holding the reins tightly, ready to let go, to give up whatever control the other man tries to take back.
I would never call him enemy
He's the bad god I need
He's the bad god I need
